


I will be with you, always

by a_gay_jedi (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Depressed John Watson, Force Bond (Star Wars), Jedi, Jedi Master John Watson, John Watson is a Good Doctor, Lightsabers, M/M, Magical Realism, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Padawan Sherlock, Sherlock is a Brat, Soulmates, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Force Is Weird (Star Wars), The Force Ships It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/a_gay_jedi
Summary: Jedi Master John Watson is at the end of his tether with the force. A blaster shot to the shoulder, his padawan murdered- he's not sure what he believes anymore.Sherlock Holmes has just passed his initiate trials with flying marks and his now a padawan learner.Assigned to each other, the two must investigate reports of a force disturbance near the temple at Jedha. The force guides them together as their mission becomes more and more dangerous, secrets are discovered, and the lines between right and wrong, light and dark, master and student begin to blur.(set pre-Skywalker saga)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

_Jedi Temple, Coruscant_

_443 BBY_

John Watson sat up instantly, robes drenched in sweat. The nightmare still licked at his consciousnesses, his eyes pinched with tears as he gripped his sleeping mat in clenched fists. He let out a dry, shaking sob. 

_All is as The Force wills it._

He shook his head. No, no it's wrong. He pressed the butts of his palms to his moistened eyes, trying to not see Murray behind them. He'd failed his apprentice- he should've seen the shots coming, he should've stopped it. If only he'd given her more of his force energy, if he hadn't been so selfish she still would be alive. Young and bright and strong. 

John Watson was none of those things. 

_All is as The Force wills_ it.

John pushed the soft caresses of The Force's touch from himself. Not now. He didn't want to use it. He didn't want to see the truth. He didn't want to see Murray again, or the blasted sand of Krait ever again. They shouldn't have been there- John should've known. It was his responsibility to know. Suddenly the door slid open, and John looked through the darkness, the programmed lamp in his chambers slowly brightening. Standing in the entrance of his room was a familiar face and John scrubbed at his hair before swinging his feet over his bed. 

"I heard you cry out, John, is everything alright?" Master Ella said gently, her dark skin glowing with reflected blue lights from the city windows. She was beautiful like this, and John felt his gut fill with fear at that thought. 

_Jedi are not to indulge in attachment. All is impermanent, all but The Force._

"Yes, I am alright, sorry to disturb you, Ella, I-" John stopped, realizing he had no explanations, "just the war I guess,"

" _Just the war_ , John?" She looked at him with seriousness, stepping into his room and placing her hand on his shoulder, and John felt small again. Like a youngling with a scraped knee in the infirmary, he looked up at her and bobbed his throat. 

"You are not connecting with The Force, John," She said, brows furrowed with concern when John didn't move to deny it. "That's dangerous,"

"Can't turn to the dark side without The Force," John mumbled and Sarah's eyes widened, pulling her hand back slowly. 

"I didn't say anything about that, John," John turned his head sideways. They all talked down to him. Broken old Master Watson, with the limp he couldn't heal and the apprentice nobody mentions anymore. "Are you experiencing temptation?" John heard the implication being made. Dark side temptation was a Padawan's challenge. An established Jedi should know it's tricks and be strong in his defense. 

"No," John whispered, the lie slipping from his lips with such ease he hated himself for it, "no, that's not what I meant,"

Ella looked at him with unease but sat herself at his desk chair.

"Have you been writing in your log?"

"What would I write about?"

Ella smiled, tilting her head.

"You endured a serious trauma, John, you were almost considered to be expelled from the order,"

John's stomach sank like a stone. _Expulsion._ They'd wanted to expel him. Figures. A real Jedi should be able to heal- and his limp wasn't even real. His whole life here, his whole life was a Jedi. If John Watson wasn't a Jedi, what the hell was he? 

"But The Force is clear, you have a purpose here John," Her mouth quirked as she observed him, "All is as the force wills it,"

 _Stop saying that!_ John shouted, blinking and huffing a breath when he realized he'd projected his thoughts rather loudly to her. 

"I'm sorry, Ella, I'm so sorry, please, go back to sleep, I promise I'm alright," He gave her a fake smile, and the wise woman only nodded. 

"The Force will give you answers, John, why don't you ask?" And with that she stepped back into the corridor, the door sliding shut behind her. 

Again the sweet, warm embrace of the light tugged at him, he could feel it in his hands, around his feet but he shook his head, pushing it back once more and climbing back to rest. If only he could return, die a hero. He should have died, should have given her his life force.

What good would living do now, knowing he was over his expiration date. 

_All is as The Force wills it, John._


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock Holmes stood in his position 1 stance, boots solid on the cold dojo floor. He breathed a warm breath that landed in mist on his skin, the blue glow of his saber casting harsh shadows across his helmet. His dark curled fringe stuck to the inside of the closed blast shield with a a gleam of sweat. A clear and cool focus filled him. In one elliptical fluid motion, he pulled his saber through the air, slicing through the training remote. 

"Wow," breathed his exercises partner when he flipped the shield up. She held the sparking halves of the droids in both hands and looked at him with adoration. "That was-"

"Easy," Sherlock finished, pulling off his helmet and groaning, "I'm _bored_ , Molly, I passed my tests months ago and no Master has taken me on," The fifteen-year-old clicked the training saber off and clipped it to his belt. 

"Wonder why, _freak_ ," Came the biting remark from nearby and Sherlock growled at the young Knight assigned to supervise the initiates training this shift. Anderson. With his stupid beard and his stupid cloak and his stupid face. 

"We could go to the library later," Molly suggested nicely and Sherlock scoffed.

"Read all of it," Sherlock huffed as he drank from his flask of water.

"Have not!" Anderson shouted and Sherlock ignored him, tossing the water aside before leading Molly into the corridor. "Wait! You're supposed to stay here through second lesson! And you broke the training remote!" 

Sherlock and Molly shared a mischievous grin, opting to simply walk faster and hope Anderson was in a lazy mood. Apparently he was, because him and Molly escaped without incident.

Being room mates with her was nice, even if she was terribly younger than him. 10 and 14 were so far apart, especially now that Sherlock had passed his trials. Although she never interrupted his meditations and she never tossed away his experiments, she was- he didn't really know exactly. She liked him too much to be trustworthy. Anyone who put up with him was clearly mad. 

The two younglings (Sherlock would've interjected that he was technically _not_ a youngling anymore) scampered down the hall, Molly yammering on about some rare Force-sensitive plant somewhere in the mid rim that she'd always wanted to study and Sherlock ignoring her. Sherlock gasped, his body suddenly wracked with chill- he could hear a heartbeat, not his own, loudly in his ears. A feeling of dread washed over him from seemingly nowhere, and his shoulder twinged with pain. What the hell? He grasped at his robes, trying to see what had touched him. Nothing.

"Are you two supposed to be somewhere?" Sherlock looked up to see himself face to face with an older Jedi, with silvery blonde hair and rough tanned skin above his sand-coloured robes and cloak. A lightsaber sat on his hip, and Sherlock could sense it was blue. Guardian then. 

"We- uh- library, Master," Molly said quickly, holding her hands behind her back, looking at Sherlock concernedly. Sherlock stood silent, aghast at the sensations of his body- like a thrumming motor under his skin.

"Go on then, younglings, I'm sorry to have kept you," He said kindly, stepping aside, and Molly went on her way before turning and looking at Sherlock impatiently. 

"Master, may I speak with you?" Sherlock said, giving Molly his best mime of _go away_. She huffed and rolled her eyes before running off, boots slapping on the cold floor. The older Jedi nodded, looking around the corridor to see that they were alone. 

"It's John Watson," 

"Sherlock Holmes," The young boy said softly, eyes awash in the broad, strong man before him, his tummy flopping over in itself with warm feelings. "I-erm, its only that I- felt something, just now."

"Oh?" John gripped his cane and steeled his expression, watching this fiery young thing with brightness in his eyes. Far too familiar a sight.

"I felt, sad sir, and my shoulder hurt, and I know it sounds mad but I- I can't describe it sir, I feel- you." John furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, looking at the boy who couldn't be less than an inch shorter than him, likely to grow taller if his broad shoulders and gawky limbs were anything to go on, with flickering icy blue eyes and a slight fiddling of his fingers behind his back. 

_Force connection._ John swallowed in his throat the moment he realized he felt it too. This beautiful child, with delicate pale skin and a head of soft curls the colour of night. His fingers twinged with the desire to feel them, gently beneath his hand.

"I'm sorry lad, I can't help you," He stepped around the child, his cane clicking on the floor of the hall, walking away before he felt a something grasp around his wrist. He turned to find the boy, still two metres away, holding him with telekinetic force. 

"I'm not asking you to teach me," The boy snapped, looking over John with piercing ferocity. 

"Who said anything about teaching you?" John grumbled. This had to be the most insolent, bratty initiate he'd ever met.

"You thought it. I know about the other padawan, I know that you were shot with a blaster in battle and that you're depressed, and that your limp is psychosomatic," Sherlock's eyes lit with something like fire and John's skin paled. _Murray._ _Krait. Sand. Blaster shots._

"I'm sorry, how did you know that? Who've you been speaking to?" John growled, looking him directly in the eyes, to which the teenager grinned.

"I didn't know, I _saw._ Your lightsaber, worn handle and surface damage to the power cell, indicates extensive use, not likely making the rounds of a data library or gaurding the temple. Your crystal is blue, you're a gaurdian, and going by your tanlines you've been in the sun recently. Clearly somewhere in the outer rim if the blaster shot is anything to go on. Not many beings willing to shoot a Jedi in the republic's borders. Your depression is obvious from the state of your limp-a Jedi in a fit state should be able to heal it. Council thinks it's trauma from your combat days. They're not wrong going by the bags under your eyes and the tremor in your dominant hand. Not getting much sleep, but you've not gone to The Force for help, perhaps you think you're not worthy, or perhaps you think you've been wronged somehow. Of course you don't want a padawan,"

Sherlock let out his breath with an air of finality, gasping and looking up to the Master Jedi, who blinked before breaking out into a smile.

"Brilliant," He shook his head and laughed, and Sherlock uneasily flickered his eyes over his superior, watching him carefully. 

"You think so?" Sherlock mumbled, rubbing a spot on the floor with the toe of his boot.

"Yes, brilliant. Extraordinary."

"That's not what people usually say,"

"What do people usually say?"

"Piss off,"

They both fell into giggles, and Sherlock felt his cheeks flush with crimson, eyelashes fluttering. 

"You might be brilliant, Sherlock, but you have atrocious manners," John rubbed a hand through his own flaxen hair and watched the soft blush that spread across the young boy's cheekbones. "Not very popular with your clan mates, were you?" John quipped and Sherlock furrowed his brows in adorable frustration.

"They were just jealous," He said quickly, his cheeks darkening further. "I'm the best swordsman of the lot, and I'm smarter than anyone,"

"And modest too," John smirked, Sherlock's spirit putting something warm in his chest, the throb of his leg beginning to dissipate. His skin was tingling with something, something supernatural and soft and warm and oh, fuck, he'd been tricked. He closed his eyes and shook his head, ignoring the soft light energy as best he could. 

"It was nice to meet you Sherlock," John said with sterile politeness, stepping around the boy a second time and making for the end of the corridor. 

"Wait!" Sherlock shouted, racing to catch up with John. "Wait, you didn't tell me what I felt, Master!" The teenager tugged on his sleeve and John pushed him away. 

"Nothing! You felt nothing! Go away!" John growled, walking faster, only to find the pestering child walking backwards in front of him.

"No, please, it felt- good, sir, I didn't mean it earlier, I want to feel it again!" John snarled and stopped in his tracks holding out a hand to stop Sherlock from getting closer, palm to his chest where his tunic met in the middle, eyes dangerous indigo and the weaker boy swallowed thickly. The feeling returned to both of them, simmering force energy flowing between them like a circuit. 

John drew his hand back as if burned and Sherlock gasped, eyes wide and mouth silent. 

"You don't understand, child, you think you do, but you don't." John seethed, his eyes burning onto Sherlock's cheeks, and the padawan blinked away tears. His heart was telling him, go, that's where you belong, and John was pushing him away and he didn't understand. He didn't. And he wanted to understand. 

"Please, sir, please, give me a chance, I'll be good! I won't be a burden, I can take care of myself!" Sherlock called after the man who'd already turned the corner, the curly haired boy turning and looking around to make sure nobody had seen them. 

_All is as the force wills it._

Sherlock blinked his eyes rapidly before the desperate feeling began to go away. Oh, he hated feelings. So much. That's what made him so good- The Force was a sharp and poignant focus to him, not some mushy wet _feeling_ like everyone else. His mind was his power, his senses. And right now, his senses were malfunctioning, his skin cold and his palms sweaty and his heart racing. Sherlock pushed his fingers to his temples to try and get back to it, but failed, groaning and kicking John's cane across the floor in frustration.

Oh!

He left his cane! A tiny spark of hope lit inside of Sherlock as he picked it up in his hand and turned to run after him- realizing suddenly he had no idea where John was. He looked down at the alien wood in his grip and smiled, closing his eyes and reaching out, a soft mist on his skin and a cool breeze in his hair. 

He felt John's essence in his grip, the tanned rough texture of his skin, the taste of his breath, the colour of his eyes, the nature of his life force thrumming through his hands. Sherlock dropped the walking stick in awe, his mind practically short circuiting from everything that had just transpired and how much data he had to process. 


End file.
